Ten Good Reasons
by RainThestral93
Summary: When Hermione's in desperate need of a new place to live, Fred and George are quite happy to have a new flatmate. But when Fred suggests Hermione sleeps with him, she demands ten good reasons why she should. Fred Weasley obliges her request in the only way he knows – with a grating sense of humour. But how long will it take for him to grind her down?
1. Deal Making

**A/N: **So I've read so many Fremione Fics lately and I've been inspired. I was watching some TV show in which a character makes a list of why they should have sex with someone, and I got this idea. It's a work in progress, but I'd love some feedback - Beth :) xx

* * *

**Deal Making**

Hermione Jean Granger was stressed to the umpteenth degree. Her tenant had kicked her out with three days' notice – not having thought to mention previously that the block of flats she lived in was being demolished and turned into a government building. Until she found a new place, Hermione was shacking up at the burrow. The chaos and disorder to the place – as much as Hermione loved the Weasley family – was already driving her to distraction. She sighed, exasperatedly as she hefted another box of her possessions into her battered Mini Cooper, ready for transferral to the Weasley abode.

"Whatcha, Granger," Fred had grinned, sneaking up on her so that she nearly dropped the box of CDs she was, without much success, trying to load into her car.

"Jesus Fred," Hermione admitted, "You scared me."

"Not the usual reaction I provoke in a lady," the redhead grinned, and Hermione rolled her eyes. He was always so crude, she thought to herself. "Need a hand?"

Her tone softened, "Yes please. There's a few more boxes inside, if you could get those then that would be great."

"No problem," grinned Fred, as he bounded up the flats' steps two at a time.

Hermione blushed when she realised that her underwear box was atop the pile Fred brought down. If the freckled wizard had noticed the box's contents, then he didn't say anything, and for that, Hermione was grateful.

The last thing she needed was a play by play analysis of the content of her underwear drawer.

"C'mon then," Fred smiled amicably. "Mum will kill us if we're late to dinner."

"More like you'll kill your brothers, because there won't be any food left," grinned Hermione.

"You know me too well," chuckled Fred heartily as he ducked into the passenger side of Hermione's car, hunching over to be able to fit into it. "You really need a bigger car, you know," he told her, "I barely fit in it."

"Only because your head is so big," Hermione grinned, and Fred responded in mock indignation.

* * *

Dinner at the Weasley's was never a small occasion. Even with Bill having moved out to live with Fleur and their baby daughter, Victoire; Charlie living and working in Romania, it was still not a small spread by any means.

Molly Weasley's sons had famous appetites – and it was with bemusement Hermione pondered how they hadn't been eaten out of house and home, over the years. When you've got seven children, creating a total of nine people in your family, it can't be easy to feed them all, Hermione mused. It was a good think Molly Weasley loved cooking – just as much as people enjoyed eating the delicious nourishment she made.

"Hermione have you found anywhere yet?" Arthur Weasley asked, conversationally.

Molly cut in, worried that Hermione would be offended by her husband's question, "Not that you're not welcome here of course," the mumsy witch smiled fondly at the brunette. "You can stay here for as long as you need, what with your parents being un-contactable, in Australia, and all," she fussed.

Hermione smiled gratefully at Molly – she had dealt with the fact that her parents' memories were irreversible, for her obliviate charm had been too potent, and it no longer bothered her. Now, she saw the Weasley's as much her family as any.

"Thanks Molly," she smiled, "But no, Arthur, I'm still looking, I'm afraid."

Fred and George were whispering in hushed tones at the other end of the table.

"Boys!" Molly exclaimed, watching with distaste as her other son, Ron, stuffed his mouth until it overflowed with roast potatoes. "Don't whisper, it's rude!"

"Sorry, Mum," Fred and George both apologised in unison.

Fred turned to look at Hermione. "You can come and live with us in the flat if you want," he smiled. He liked Hermione – she _talked_to him, like he was a person, and not some noteworthy celebrity to drool over, like a lot of his female friends did. George did as well – which was why, from their hushed discussion, they'd concluded that they wouldn't mind putting her up for a while.

"You're serious?" Hermione exclaimed, overjoyed.

"Sure," George smiled. "I mean you'd have to put your bit towards the rent, and pitch in with the cooking and cleaning every now and then, but I don't see why not."

"That's very kind of you, boys," Molly smiled fondly at her twins, a bemused expression flitting across her face momentarily. Her boys weren't usually known for random acts of kindness – and she wondered what had brought this on.

"Nah, it's nothing Mum," Fred grinned at Hermione, "Hermione's practically family, and it's the least we can do."

So it was settled. Hermione would be moving into the flat above Weasley Wizard Wheezes, with none other than Fred and George.

* * *

It took about a week for Hermione shift all her things from the Burrow and get them sorted. Thankfully, the flat was three bedroomed, and until now, had only been used as extra storage space for the shop below. Fred and George had been especially helpful, helping her purchase an antique bed from a Muggle store in London, shrink it, and get it back to the flat in one piece.

Molly had pitched in with a nice faded white wood dresser which she claimed to have no need for any more, and Hermione fell in love with it instantly. Thanks to being able to perform magic, given that Hermione was now twenty-one years of age, and very adept, it made the move a hell of a lot easier than if she'd not had a wand. She was able to use weight reducing charms to make things manoeuvrable on her own, and she shrunk lots of her books to make for easy transportation.

Nonetheless, it still took about a week before everything had a new home, and Fred and George's flat looked less like a dumping ground. Hermione sighed and collapsed onto the cream sofa in the living room – it seemed Fred and George (she suspected, through Angie's input) had quite the eye for furniture – and their flat was modestly decorated in mostly reds, blacks, whites and dark chocolate brown. It was nice, and Hermione found herself feeling at home, nearly immediately.

Creating a nest amongst the cushions, she flicked on the TV. The TV had been hers, and she'd brought it with her – much to the delight of Fred and George who had always wanted one, yet never really known what to buy. She flicked through the channels, disappointed at the lack of choice, and settled on a cookery program.

Fred joined her, sitting on the other end of the sofa, and drawing Hermione's legs into his lap so that there was actually space to sit down in. It was a rather small sofa, you see.

They watched in comfortable silence as one by one the contestants were eliminated and left the show, sobbing. Hermione laughed occasionally at some of the comments made by the judges – and for some reason Fred found himself laughing alongside her. She had a nice laugh, he thought to himself.

There was an advert break – it felt like there were more adverts than actual program, Fred chuckled to himself – and both he and Hermione watched, their eyes glued to the screen as an advert for a new type of perfume came on screen.

A half-naked woman ran along a beach, and an equally naked man chased her, until he caught her and kissed her rather a lot. Hermione felt her cheeks involuntarily tinging pink, and she hoped that Fred wasn't looking in her direction.

He wasn't, Hermione chuckled, as she checked. He was far too dazzled by the advert's female model to notice her discomfort.

Next, a condom advert came on, being after watershed and all, and Hermione felt like hiding her head in her hands.

The subject of sex didn't usually embarrass her, but there was something about sitting next to a male friend and watching rather provocative adverts that made Hermione squirm uncomfortably in her seat.

Noticing her agitation, Fred grinned at Hermione, breaking the silence between them as he announced, "I think you should have sex with me."

Hermione nearly choked – which was ridiculous, given that she wasn't eating or drinking, so she would have choked on simply air.

"Sorry, what?" She composed herself, amused, "You think I should sleep with you?"

Fred shrugged, "Yeah why not."

"I can think of plenty of reasons why not," Hermione grinned, amused that Fred had even made such a preposition.

"Well I can think of plenty reasons why we should," Fred retorted, a lot more confident than the Gryffindor bookworm. His willingness to just talk about having sex outside of a relationship, like this, was making her somewhat uneasy.

"Well give me ten good reasons, and then maybe I'll consider it," Hermione finalised, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the cookery program, feeling her cheeks still slightly hot with embarrassment.

"Deal," grinned Fred. "You don't know what you've let yourself in for," he grinned wickedly.

Hermione suspected she had a pretty good idea.


	2. Curiosity Killed the Cat

**A/N: ** Really glad to have received such a positive response to this when I wrote the first chapter yesterday. I'll hopefully write the next few chapters soon so that I can update on a more frequent basis. If you'd like to chip in with any reasons why Hermione should sleep with Fred, feel free – read & review, please – Beth :) xx

**Curiosity Killed the Cat**

Hermione was sat on the couch watching TV. Her hand brought a forkful of noodles up to her mouth, chew, and repeat. She'd been continuing this sequence for the better part of half an hour, now, enraptured by the nature program she was watching.

It was a special episode on cats – both wild and domestic – and it was intriguing to Hermione, who had always been a big fan of cats. Unfortunately Crookshanks had recently died, and the Gryffindor bookworm sometimes got a little sniffly every now and then when she found herself wanting something to cuddle, and yet she wasn't able finding anything warm and fluffy that would do the job.

Not that Crookshanks had ever really appreciated the hugs that Hermione had lavished on him – he was a rather feral animal, after all. Maybe it was the kneazle in him, she mused.

She was jolted out of her reverie by the presence of a familiar redhead on the sofa next to her.

"Whatcha, 'Mione," Fred grinned at her, grabbing a fork from the cutlery pot – don't ask why it was on the coffee table, it was meant to be "artistic" or something; Hermione was still trying to get her head round it, and suspected it was for convenience sake more than anything else.

"Oh hey, Fred," She smiled, "Made much progress with your list of reasons yet?" She grinned wickedly. Only Hermione Granger would set Fred an academic sounding task detailing "Why Hermione Should Have Sex with Fred"… she'd be so much better if she worked in politics, she chuckled to herself, taking another bite of the Chinese food.

"All in good time, all in good time," Fred grin throwing her a saucy wink as he cracked open one of the fortune cookies that came complimentary with the meal.

If the TV wasn't a good enough deal cinchier, for the twins letting Hermione move into their flat, then the introduction to Chinese cuisine – or takeout, seeing as Hermione wasn't especially gifted in the culinary department. Cookery books were one type of book she wasn't all that fond of, after all – was enough to satisfy the twins.

Fred had been especially fascinated by the concept of fortune cookies – and had come to take the messages on the scraps of paper as somewhat of a holy guidance. Hermione was amused as he read each one, puzzling in thought as he tried to work out what it meant.

This time, when he read the prophetic sentence, a smile broke out across his face, and when he looked up he had a wicked look in his eyes.

"Hermione, you know the expression _Curiosity Killed the Cat,_" Fred began, and Hermione regarded him with suspicion. Where was this going?

"Yesss…" She admitted, "What about it?"

"Well it would be an awful shame for you die, wouldn't it?"

"I wasn't planning on doing it any time soon," chuckled Hermione, "I've had plenty of near death experiences in my life already, thanks."

"Yes well what if you died from the curiosity of not having sex with me?"

For a few moments, Hermione burst out into peals of uncontrollable laughter, "Nice try Fred," she gasped, between laughs. "But I'm not a cat."

"Don't lie to me, Hermione, we all saw you in the hospital wing in your second year… Millicent Bullstrode's cat wasn't really one of you better looks," he grinned, dodging a cushion that Hermione had lobbed his way.

"How come you've never mentioned it?" She exclaimed, mortified that her furry little secret had been discovered.

"Well, Madame Pomfrey said she'd jinx us if we ever said anything –" Fred began, trailing off as he saw the cheeky expression on Hermione's face.

"Oh really?" She smiled, "Well it just so happens that Madame Pomfrey and I have stayed in contact – we're very good friends," Hermione remarked slyly.

"Nooooo," Fred exclaimed dramatically, "Anything, Hermione, I beg you, but don't set the matron on me – she's _evil_!" Hermione chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm not a snitch," she admitted, "But tell anyone about the cat incident and your balls are in serious danger."

"My whole penis is in danger, Hermione," Fred grinned, "Will you take a look at it for me? I'll let you touch it, if you want," the redhead was doing his best not to laugh.

Hermione shot Fred a disdainful look. "You really are disgusting, you know that?" She remarked, without really needing to, of course he knew it; he wasn't Fred Weasley for no reason at all.

"C'mon 'Mione," Fred whined, "I'm only messing."

"Good."

She settled back into the comforting support that the sofa offered, watching the remaining few minutes of the cat program. It was somewhat harder to follow, given that her conversation with Fred had distracted her from the documentary's happenings.

Fred broke the silence. "C'mon, surely you'd have heard the girls at Hogwarts talking? You can't deny that you're a bit curious?"

Hermione looked at Fred pointedly. "You think I listened to the incessant drivel that came out the mouths of Lavendar Brown and those aggravating Patil sisters?"

"OK maybe not," Grinned Fred, "No wonder you've still got so many brain cells – I bet you had your head buried in a book as thick as the three of them put together," he chuckled, "at the time they would have been discussing my –ahem- _manhood_," He lowered his eyes to his crotch, causing Hermione to tut in outward disgust. He really was vulgar, at times, she thought.

"Funnily enough, yes, I probably did. That's what clever people do, you see, read."

"Oh granger, I'm offended that you insult my intelligence so… one doth protest," Fred mock clutched his heart, prompting another eye roll from Hermione's direction. "But aren't you a _tiny_ bit curious?" He added, genuinely intrigued.

It was a well-known fact that Fred Weasley was a desired individual – had been through all of his Hogwarts years, and he still was now; the flocks of girls that came into the shop just to drool were evidence enough – and didn't he know it, thought Hermione.

She responded smartly with a witty comeback, the best way to avoid answering a question, "I think there's only one thing around here that's bound to be tiny," she trailed off, pointedly staring in the vicinity of Fred's appendage. She chuckled, laughing at the disgruntled reaction that flitted across Fred's face – replaced almost instantaneously by a look of determination, and perhaps even hopefulness, she noted, amused.

"Well you'll never know until you try, will you," Fred grinned. "I would whip down my trousers here and now, but if my memory serves me correctly, I've got to come up with nine more reasons, and then maybe you'll do it for me instead," he winked at Hermione, prompting yet _another_ eye roll.

"You're insufferable," she remarked, noticing with amusement that the slip of paper from Fred's fortune cookie was on the table. It read "Curiosity Killed the Cat"… "D'you know that?" She asked, already knowing his response.

He grinned. "But you wouldn't want me any other way," he pointed out, and Hermione paused in thought.

_No_, she supposed, _no she wouldn't._


	3. Hell of a Lot to Handle

**A/N:  
**I'd just like to say thank you for all getting behind this Fic - have to say I absolutely adore writing Fred/Hermione, and I kinda like this idea, which is a first. I won't be updating until after thursday, now, though because I go back to school. Ew... people o_0 but yeah. Read & Review as always - feedback/criticsm is always appreciated - Beth :) xx

* * *

**Hell of a Lot to Handle**

"Fred," Hermione called from her bedroom, and the redhead popped his head around the doorframe, appearing like he had no body. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did the Muggle paper I ordered arrive?"

"What d'you want that for?" He wondered, curious.

"For the TV pages," she explained, and judging by the confused expression on his face, proceeded to explain. "It's a magazine that they put together every week to tell you what's on TV. It means if there's a show on that you want to watch you know what time to put the TV on, so that you don't miss it."

Fred nodded in understanding. "I'm not sure George has got the mail up from the shop yet, I'll go down and have a look," he smiled fondly at the Gryffindor. She really looked quite funny before she got dressed in the mornings – her hair was ten times frizzier than normal and nearly engulfed her. But it was quite endearing really, he supposed, as he took the steps downstairs two and a time, and picked up the pile of mail from the floor.

Filtering through it, he sorted it into four – his mail, George's, Angelina's, and Hermione's. Angelina was George's fiancée, and was currently living at the flat with them until they found a place of their own to live. Fred was pretty glad that Hermione had moved in – now things didn't feel so awkward, with him third wheeling on his brother's relationship. Hermione was fun to have around – and good company, and besides, she came with an awesome TV, he grinned to himself.

Walking back into Hermione's room unannounced, she yelped as she wheeled around to face him, wearing denim cut offs and a bra. She hastily grabbed a duvet, using it to cover her, and Fred apologised profusely.

"Sorry, 'Mione," Fred garbled, grinning at the now very vivid mental picture of the Gryffindor in her cream lace bra.

She chucked a shoe at him. "You're an idiot, has anyone ever told you that, Fred Weasley?" She said, half grinning.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, funnily enough I have heard that one once or twice in my life," he chuckled. "Don't sweat it – all roommates see one another naked at some point or another – think of this as an initiation ceremony of sorts," he said, grinning devilishly.

This time, a cushion came hurling his way, slapping him square in the jaw. Hermione took his distraction as an opportunity to whip her shirt on over her head.

"Hey no fair!" Fred exclaimed, sounding like a whiny ten year old, "I didn't get to see!"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, and Fred grinned sheepishly. "So was the paper amongst my post then?" Hermione asked, tying her hair up in a messy bun as she fastened her shoes.

Fred shuffled through the series of letters that had been left by the owls that morning. He produced a large wad of paper, all wrapped in plastic, and Hermione dived on it excitably.

"Whoa," Fred grinned, "Somebody's excited," he said, chuckling, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"There's a new series of the Apprentice starting this week," she explained. "I just really don't want to miss it."

Her eyes cast a brief glance down the columns, her brow furrowing as she struggled to locate the program in question. "I can't find it," she thought, and Fred leant his head over her shoulder, reading down the columns as well.

"Me neither," he admitted.

"Eugh," sighed Hermione. "That means I've got nothing to watch this evening. Why is there _never_anything good on TV," she exclaimed outwardly, in frustration, tossing the TV pages aside as she did so.

"Seriously Fred, if there's nothing good on TV, what on earth am I going to do?" She sighed exasperatedly.

Fred's eyes lit up as he thought of something, "Well I know one thing you could do…" He trailed off.

Hermione regarded him quizzically. "What?"

"Well you can always do me," he pointed out, with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a suggestive wink. Hermione sighed, pretending to hit herself in her face with her palm.

"You Fred Weasley," she groaned, "Are insufferable. Do you know that?"

"I've heard that one a few times in my life, as well," he grinned.

"Seriously though," his voice took on a more negotiating note. "You said give me ten reasons why you should sleep with me; and I've already given you two. I'm starting to think we ought to write these down before we forget them."

"I wasn't serious, Fred," Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes. She stopped, when she saw Fred looking at her with a pointed expression.

"Hermione you made a deal with me, I'm afraid that just because you're in awe of my sexiness does not mean that you can retract that deal, now."

"I did no such thing –"

Fred cut her off by tucking his arms into his armpits, bending them at the elbows, running round sticking his neck out and producing a very realistic sounding impression of a chicken.

"Never pegged you for a coward, 'Mione," he grinned, a manipulative smile on his face, "After all, are you a Gryffindor, or not?"

Hermione "hmmped." "Fine," she negated, "You've got a deal. But they have to be _good_reasons, otherwise the deal is void. OK?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Fine," he conceded. "But I'm still down, eight to go." Hermione winced inwardly, hoping that Fred would have some difficulty coming up with the other eight reasons. Heaven knows she didn't need much of a reason – Fred Weasley, after all, _was_somewhat irresistible.

She handed him a piece of parchment and a quill, and he scribbled furiously for a few minutes in his cumbersome handwriting – looking like a spider had dipped itself in ink and then wandered drunkenly across the page. Perhaps, the witch mused, she would give him handwriting lessons – and she the chuckled at the idea of giving a fully grown adult handwriting lessons.

Fred handed it to her, along with the quill, and she read it quickly, her eyes dancing from one line to the next.

_ I, Hermione Jean Granger, agree to sleep with Fred Weasley on the conditions that_

_He produces ten reasons why I should_

_They are relevant and noteworthy reasons, in order to count_

_If any poor reasons are produced, this deal is void and Fred Weasley will just have to resign himself to thinking about Hermione in that lovely lace bra for the rest of his life_

_Neither party has any undisclosed sexual diseases_

_Signed …..._

Hermione rolled her eyes at the part about her bra; it was such a Fred thing to say. Sighing, she signed her name on the dotted line, already regretting what she'd set herself up for.

Fred flipped the paper, and wrote swiftly,

_ "10 Reasons Hermione should sleep with Fred"_

_1 - Curiosity about the size of his schlong  
2 - No decent shows on TV_

"Really?" Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration. "You went with 'schlong'?"

Fred shrugged. "Sounds better than penis, don't you think?"

She rolled her eyes.

Fred Weasley was really a hell of a lot to handle.


	4. It's Raining, It's Pouring

**A/N: **So it's taken about ten bloody years for me to update this, but I have valid reasons, promise. I'll try not to keep you waiting again – I know how frustrating it is – but the chapter's up now, and you might get more than one this weekend if you're lucky as well (because I'm feeling guilty) but here's what's been going on in my life:

1) My sisters best friend tried to jump off a building but the Police stopped her just in time. She left my sister a suicide note, and my sister read it, believing she was dead. The friend is now in a psychiatric unit; so there's been lots going on with my sister etc., and I'm sure you can understand I needed to be there for her.  
2) I've been really ill or else I'd have updated a week ago. I couldn't get out of bed least of all write and update all my Fan Fiction (of which there is a lot).  
3) I've had so much school work I thought I was going to suffocate under it. GCSEs suck, seriously. But I've done it all now and I'm all out of excuses.

* * *

**It's Raining, It's Pouring**

Fred Weasley groaned as he rolled over, pulling his pillow over his ears in an attempt to drown out the noise of the rain that was lashing down on the outside of the flat. Blasted rain – on one of the rare occasions where George was working the early shift at the shop, and Fred was allowed a lie in; the bloody noise was preventing him from getting back to sleep.

Sighing, he sat up; rubbing his sleep encrusted eyes and stretching, glancing at the clock beside his bedside. It was only nine 'o' clock, he realised in defeat, as he got up, slipped into his slippers, and made his way into the flat's kitchenette.

Rooting through the cupboards – and all the granola, rabbit food cereals that had been presence ever since Hermione had moved in – he reached for a sugary, high calorie box of gunk that he was undoubtedly going to need if the shop was going to be as busy as it usually was on a Saturday. His hand fed his mouth spoonful after spoonful as his body struggled to wake up.

The constant drumming of the rain was therapeutic, and Fred very nearly found himself drifting off to sleep, face down in his bowl of cocoa pops. Hermione bustled into the kitchen, her hair tied up in a messy bun, her pyjamas clinging to her petite figure and jolting Fred from his reverie.

She smiled at the familiar redhead, "Morning," and he nodded his greetings back to her – knowing all too well that spraying Hermione with his mouthful of cornflakes wouldn't have been a nice wake up call.

"Great weather we're having, eh?" Hermione chuckled, as she fixed the kettle to boil, spooning instant coffee into her cat mug. Fred rolled his eyes.

"It's awful," he whined, "I didn't get my lie in I wanted."

"Aww diddums," she grinned, taking a slurp of her coffee, and scalding her tongue in the process, "Shit," she grimaced, and Fred laughed at her. "It's not funny," she chided, "I could have seriously hurt myself, what kind of Fred are you if you laugh at me?"

"Sorry 'Mione," Fred chuckled, always finding it funny whenever Hermione got angry. "It won't happen again. I'm just in a funny mood because it's raining."

"It's OK," Hermione admonished, seating herself on a stool and helping herself to one of the croissants that George must have bought from the patisserie across the street.

The silence between them grew, as Hermione read the paper George had also left behind, and Fred had already read the back of the cereal box about ninety thousand times.

"It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring," Fred sang, reciting the Muggle nursery rhyme he'd overheard one time when he had been young. "He went to bed –" Fred stopped singing as the cogs began to whir in his brain; a consequence of the lyrics he'd just been singing mere moments ago.

"'Mione," the devious young wizard calls, causing Hermione to retract her head from the pages of the _Daily Prophet_and look up.

"Mhmm?" She asked, noticing with curiousity the playful expression on Fred's face. She'd seen it before, and yet she was having somewhat of a difficult time placing it.

"You know if I was sad, would you try and cheer me up?" He asked, feigning innocence. Hermione wasn't quite compelled by it.

"You know I would, Fred," she sighed, "After all, isn't that what friends do?"

"So if I told you I was sad right now, you'd try and cheer me up?"

"But are you sad, right now?" Hermione asked, confused, for the wizard had been perfectly fine mere moments ago.

"Yes," Fred announced dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. "SO would you try and cheer me up?"

"I suppose so," Hermione admitted with a sigh. "Why are you sad?"

"Well," Fred paused, probably for dramatic effect – either that or to try and supress the smile that was playing at the corner of his lips. "It's raining, and so I'm depressed."

"Oh come on Fred," Hermione groaned. "It's just rain!"

"But what if I told you I had one of those Seasonal Weather illness thingummies?"

"Do you have Seasonal Affective Disorder?" Hermione questioned, and Fred shrugged.

"I don't know, all I know is I'm depressed and my bed hasn't been properly utilised this morning due to this blasted rain. I think you should come back there and have sex with me." Fred remarked, throwing his preposition in nonchalantly towards the end, a small smirk on his face.

The Gryffindor bookworm choked on the mouthful of coffee she had just drank; and after recovering clearly told Fred, "I'm not having sex with you because it's raining," as she rolled her eyes. "That's a pathetic excuse."

"Aww but come on Hermione," Fred whined. "It's not like you're going to go out is it, you hate the rain as much as I do."

"Better luck next time, Fred," Hermione smiled, as she returned to her paper. "This isn't going on the list of reasons, either," she added.

"But –" Fred spluttered, a pointed look from the brunette's direction enough to shut him up, as he resigned himself to finishing his now very soggy bowl of cereal. Today, Fred was not in a very good mood.

* * *

**A/N:** So it's shorter than the others, sue me, I could only drag it out so much. Next chapter up soon, I hope :) - Beth


	5. Half Time

**A/N:** So I was feeling guilty so I wrote you guys another chapter because you're just so awesome, here you go - let me know what you think!

* * *

**Half Time**

Fred was still in somewhat of a bad mood, after Hermione had turned down his suggestion this morning. HE didn't know what it was about miserable weather, but it always managed to somewhat deflate his laid back care-free attitude. George had lost his patience with him, that morning in the shop; knowing that Fred was likely to upset a customer if he carried on this way.

"Fred mate?" George prompted, in a caring tone. It was funny when his twin got pissy; but _not_when it meant they lost custom.

"What?" Fred snapped curtly. George restrained himself from rolling his eyes, only knowing that this would aggravate his twin more.

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

"I'm fine," Fred announced stubbornly. "I'm not bunking off because it's raining."

"_That's_why you're pissed?" George exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

"Yes," Fred snapped. "I don't like rain OK."

"If I know you at all, Fred Weasley," George chuckled, recognising Fred's antics as stubbornness to disclose information. "Then there's something you're not telling me."

"Fine," Fred gave in. "Hermione won't have sex with me."

His brother spluttered. "Sorry, what?"

"You heard me," Fred's gaze was pointed.

"Since when, mate?" George ran a hair through his hair, not really having been anticipating a chat about the opposite sex. Fred didn't usually have any problem getting any which he pleased into bed.

"She's been refusing since we made a deal last week."

"No I mean, since when have you liked her?"

Fred's eyes widened in realisation that he'd misinterpreted the question. "Oh," he shrugged, "A few months I guess."

George nodded, curious, before asking, "What's this about a bet?"

Fred's lips twitched upwards into a smile. "Oh I asked her to sleep with me and she said she would if I could come up with ten good reasons."

George rolled his eyes. "Only you." He chuckled; of course, it was exactly the kind of thing Fred would do – he _never_had taken relationships seriously. "You know you could just ask her out on a date?"

"But that's _boring_, Georgie-poo," Fred grinned, "I do think Angie's making you lose your touch, my friend."

"Say what you like," grinned George, "At least I'm getting some."

This earnt him a severe wallop in the chest from Fred, and George laughed. "How many reasons you got so far?"

"Two," grinned Fred. "Eight to go."

"Good luck mate," George laughed, "You're going to need it."

* * *

Later that evening, George had gone out with Angelina, and Fred and Hermione were home alone. The morning's discrepancy had been forgotten by Hermione, who was currently sat in an armchair, reading _Hogwarts: A History_for what had to be the millionth time in her life.

"Don't you get bored of reading that?" Fred remarked, indicating to the book in Hermione's hands. She looked up, smiling, and shook her head.

"I'm waiting for the football to come on," she admitted, "I'm only reading it to pass the time. In fact, it's going to kick-off now, I might as well put it on. You joining me?"

"Sure," Fred flopped onto the sofa next to her, his feet placed in her lap. She pushed them off with distaste.

"I don't want your smelly feet in my lap thank you very much," she smiled, jokingly.

"Smelly feet?" Fred exclaimed, "I'm offended! I can assure you that my feet smell like roses, thank you very much."

"Sure," Hermione grinned as she snapped open a muggle beer – to which she'd introduced the twins to, and they'd fallen in love with. Handing him the can, she popped the top on her own cider; a slightly more lady like drink.

"Cheers," Fred grinned, as they settled bag to watch the game, Fred replacing his feet in her lap, this time to no complaints.

After a pretty uneventful first half, Hermione got up, stretching her legs – for the weight of Fred's legs had given her pins and needles.

"Can I get you anything?" She asked, gesturing to his empty beer.

Fred made to shake his head, but not before a wicked glint sparked his features.

"A naked Hermione in my bed please, I'll be in in five," he remarked coolly.

Hermione glared at him. "I meant in terms of a refill, you twit," she sighed.

Fred was full on beaming now. "Yeah but maybe I'm thirsty for something else," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he did so.

"You're disgusting," Hermione remarked, already halfway out the room.

"Don't offer if you're not going to carry through with it, sweetheart," Fred drawled patronisingly. Hermione's eyes became slits as she glared at him again – but the small smirk on her face showed that she wasn't really all that annoyed with him.

"Don't call me sweetheart," she instructed him, swanning out to get another drink.

"Ok, doll," Fred grinned, as Hermione came back into the room, Pear Cider in one hand, and another Budweiser in the other hand.

"Stop with the pet names already," she groaned.

"Why should I," Fred pointed out, "It annoys you, it's funny, babey."

Hermione mimed throwing up, and Fred laughed vivaciously.

"Seriously, _stop!"_Hermione all but screamed, "It's horrible, why do couples subject one another to that?"

"Make me stop," Fred challenged, looking pointedly at Hermione.

She bit her lip – not realising the effect that hand on Fred; involving a rush of blood to his groin – and made up her mind.

"Fine then," she remarked nonchalantly, crossing the distance between them, and promptly sitting on him, pummeling him with cushions before he could defend himself – hitting him with whatever was laying around to hand on the sofa.

"OK, OK!" Fred shouted, "I surrender."

Hermione sat back triumphant, letting her guard down, and before she knew it, Fred had flipped her off him, and reversed the roles so that he was straddling her, he face mere centimetres from hers. Her eyes widened.

"Hey," she managed weakly, "No fair!"

"Says you," he grinned. "Now how do you suggest I get my revenge?" His eyes danced wickedly in the light of the TV – which was flickering in the background but remaining unwatched.

"Tell me 'Mione," Fred grinned, "You're not ticklish, are you?"

Her eyes widened. "Anything but that!"

Fred's hands danced over her skin, tickling all the places he'd discovered effective after years of torturing Ginny, and Hermione writhed underneath him, begging for release.

"Anything at all, hmm?" Fred grinned manically, licking his lips as he did so.

Hermione nodded, unable to talk from the agony she was experiencing, his fingers teasing all the right spots.

"So you'd kiss me, huh?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she paused momentarily, noticing that Fred's fingers had stopped their attack for a few seconds as he awaited her answer.

"Yes," she managed, in a small meek voice as she looked up at the redhead. Fred looked down at her quizzically, lowering his head slightly and letting his eyes flicker shut, trusting Hermione to bridge the final gap between them.

The pressure of his lips on hers was soft, curious, yet demanding all at the same time, and the witch let go of her inhibitions as he bit playfully on her bottom lip. Her inner goddess smirked triumphantly as Fred moaned against her; the reverberations ricocheting through her body in all manners of ways that they shouldn't, jolting her back into the room. She broke the kiss, drawing away first, looking up at Fred.

He looked at her, his lips slightly swollen, and his freckled cheeks flushed, breaking the silence first. "So that's two more reasons, I do believe."

"Two?" Hermione managed, her heart still thumping manically in her chest.

"Firstly, half time in a football match is as good a reason as any –"

"That one's pretty dubious, though," Hermione grinned, her smile wide and genuine in the aftermath of their kiss.

"It still counts," Fred grinned as he pulled the bet out of his pocket, adding "Half Time" to the list. "Then there's the matter of that kiss," he announced.

"Don't tell me you didn't feel it. We've got chemistry, 'Mione."

"Chemistry or not doesn't mean I'm going to jump into bed with you," she remarked, rolling her eyes.

"We'll see about that," Fred grinned devilishly.

"That we will," Hermione admitted, her smile permanently etched on her face for the rest of the evening.


	6. Think of the Polar Bears

**A/N**: I know it's taken me ages to update and I'm sorry but I'm excused, I've been in Belgium for the past week with a school trip. But I'm back now, and here's another chapter. I'd love to know what you think of this - Beth :) xx

* * *

**Think of the Polar Bears**

Hermione was sat at the countertop in the Weasley kitchen, picking at her Nachos that Fred had cooked her, knowing full well that they were her favourite. She tipped the dregs of her can of Coke into her mouth, and belched loudly. Her hand flew to her mouth in embarrassment, causing Fred to merely quirk an eyebrow at her.

"That was quite impressive, 'Mione," Fred grinned, "Didn't know you had it in you."

"I don't tend to make a habit of belching when I have company," she remarked pointedly.

"Relax," he grinned, his lazy smile becoming predominant. "You're amongst friends."

"Hmm," Hermione chuckled, and reached for an apple. Three bites into it, she pushed it away. "Eugh," she moaned, "I feel so bloated, why d'you always give me portions of food that would feed the entirety of Africa?" She whined, half-heartedly.

"Nobody said you had to eat it all," Fred pointed out, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Waste not, want not," she quipped, "I don't like wasting food."

"Well _sorry_," teased Fred, "You can get your own dinner from now on," he grinned.

"No!" She exclaimed quickly, "You _know_how bad I am at cooking," she giggled – for the twins had experienced the fire alarm going off far too many times since she'd taken up residence in their flat – usually the consequence of toast charred beyond recognition.

"You do kind of suck," Fred chuckled. "Speaking of which, I need to make a cake. Will you help me?"

"Why are you making a cake?" Hermione asked, bemused, as she tried to rack her brains for any occasions coming up in the near future.

Fred smiled secretively to himself. "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you, 'Mione," he grinned, "So are you game?"

"Sure," Hermione grinned, as she hopped off the bar stool, depositing her dirty plate in the dishwasher. "What type of cake are we making?" her voice was laced with excitement – like a child on Christmas morning.

"The only type of cake I know how to make," Fred chuckled, "An exploding cake."

"Why on earth would you want to make a cake that explodes?" Hermione was confused.

Fred tapped the side of his nose in a manner which irritated Hermione to no end – she hated not being let into secrets. "I could tell you," he grinned, "but then I'd have to kill you." Hermione walloped him with a tea towel, and he dodged out of the way. "Let's get cracking," he winked at her as he pulled eggs, flour, sugar and butter out of the fridge and surrounding cupboards.

Hermione's brow was furrowed as she tried to read a cake-battered smeared recipe; her hair was up in a haphazard bun, and as she leant over the granite countertop her checked shirt had rose up, and Fred was having a difficult time keeping his eyes and mind away from the creamy skin of her lower back. Shaking himself, he steadied the bowl as he sifted flour into the sugar, already weighed out.

Fred could feel his nose beginning to itch, and he struggled to supress a sneeze. "Ah-ahhh-atchoo!" expelled the redhead, and moments later there was flour dusting every surface of the kitchen.

Hermione looked at Fred with a look crossed between irritation and amusement, flour dusting her eyebrows and making her look similar to the late Professor Dumbledore in terms of age. "Well that was clever," she chuckled, and Fred had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Oops?" He offered, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Only one thing for it," she announced, a wicked glint taking over her features. "Food fight!" She yelped, reaching for an egg and slamming it atop Fred's unruly mass of ginger hair – and his mouth fell open in surprise.

Shaking his head, and sending yet more flour flurrying down around the kitchen, Fred laughed. "That's it, you're going to get it now, Granger," he chuckled, scooping up large globules of butter and hurling them in the bookworm's direction. Giggling, Hermione ducked, and the butter splattered onto the wooden cupboards behind her.

Not too long after, the entire kitchen was redecorated, and Fred was rocking a butter quiff, and chocolate icing war paint. Hermione had strawberry jam splattered over her chest, seeping down her cami and into her bra as well as a complexion pale as a ghost, thanks to the entire box of icing sugar that Fred had hurled into her face.

Fred looked at Hermione, and Hermione looked at Fred. The mere sight of one another caused the duo to burst out laughing.

"Look at the state of us," Hermione exclaimed, "I'm going to need a serious shower to get this off," she chuckled, gesturing towards the trickle of strawberry jam that ran between her breasts. Fred was making a considerable effort to avert his eyes away from the sticky area – but his brain wasn't co-operating quite so much, instead he was imagining licking the jam off Hermione, kissing his way up to her neck before planting a sweet sugar-coated kiss on her lips.

"Fred?" Hermione asked, jolting him out of his reverie. He looked at the Gryffindor bookworm, abashed.

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly, "I was just thinking about –"

"My breasts," Hermione finished nonchalantly, grinning widely. "I know. All I asked was do you want to have a shower first or should I?"

A familiar wicked glint lit up Fred's face.

"You like animals, right, Hermione?"

"Yes?" She retorted, having a nagging suspicion as to where he would try and take this latest point.

"Well then you support Greenpeace, don't you?"

"Yeah," she smiled, pleasantly surprised that the redhead had heard of the Muggle organisation. "Yeah I do. What's this got to do with anything?"

"Well do you think it's important not to waste water?" His tone was dead serious, only the smirk that was tugging at the corners of his mouth indicated any sign of trickery.

"Yes…" Hermione trailed off.

"Well then," grinned Fred, "I think we should take a shower together, save water, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Nice try, Fred," she grinned, genuinely amused at his continued persistence.

"Aww but Hermione, think of the polar bears!" He exclaimed in mock outrage.

"I'm sure the polar bears won't begrudge me a shower out of the clutches of a sex-crazed deviant," the brunette laughed amicably.

"Sex crazed deviant?" Fred admonished, "Why, I'm offended."

"Aww no hard feelings, dear," Hermione teased. "If it bothers you that much, the welfare of polar bears, then why don't you just take a super quick shower instead of one of your usual twenty-five hour ones?"

"Fine," Fred harrumphed dejectedly. "But can saving the polar bears at least go on the list of reasons?"

"If it has to," Hermione chuckled, "Although I'm sure your intentions regarding polar bears are anything but innocent."

"You know me too well," Fred chuckled. "Anyway, race you to the shower!"

Even though he had a few moments head start, Fred slipped on the yolk of a dropped egg, sliding head over heels on the flooring, and landing in a crumpled heap.

"Ouch," he moaned, causing Hermione to skid to a halt. She paused, looking down at Fred and then beamed as she raced off.

"Looks like the shower's mine, sucker," she called back to him, laughing, and when Fred tried mumbling something about "not fair", she bit back, "All's fair in love and war, babe," leaving Fred in her wake shaking his head in bemusement...


	7. Memory of a Goldfish

**A/N:**I KNOW how awful I am at updating, I don't need to be told I already feel extremely guilty but I've got all my homework done for the weekend so it looks like you guys are the lucky ones… here's another chapter! So were any of you wondering why last chapter Fred needed to make a cake? Well it's April 1st if that gives you any kind of clue… and if you want to read more; I suggest you read on. Oh and leave me a review, I'll be your best friend for ever and ever – promise! – Beth :) xx

* * *

**Memory of a Goldfish**

Hermione groaned, as a very loud and joyful sounding – yet entirely out of tune – voice roused her from her sleep. She desperately tried to drift off again, but it was very hard with the approaching source of noise getting louder and louder.

"Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday dear Georgie! Happy birthday to me!" Hermione's eyes shot open in realisation. Crap. It was the twins' birthday, and she'd entirely forgotten to get them anything. Guilty was certainly one word to describe how the Gryffindor bookworm was feeling – mortified another. She hurried out of bed, slinging on her maroon dressing gown and proceeded to jump on the back of an unsuspecting Fred.

Twenty two punches to Fred's arm later (for when it was Hermione's birthday the twins had pinned her up against a wall until she'd received twenty birthday beats for each year she'd been alive, and one for luck) she clambered off him, a massive smile across her face masking her nerves over not having got him anything.

"Mornin' m'lady," Fred grinned, nursing his battered arm as he did so. Stretching into a yawn, his pyjama shirt rose up; leaving Hermione with a pretty impressive image of his neatly toned abs and the trail of hair that disappeared into his trousers. She struggled to keep her composure and Fred noticed - quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Like what you see, huh?" His tone was teasing but Hermione couldn't help but notice the trace of something else in his voice. "So where's my present, huh?" Hermione balked.

"I err can't give it to you now…" she trailed off, her acting skills letting her down. "I uh left it at the Burrow."

Fred wasn't having any of it.

"Please tell me you didn't forget the birthday of the amazing, gorgeous and perfect Weasley twins, now?" He was grinning still, but there was an edge of hurt to his voice.

Hermione noticed, deciding to back track. "Well no I didn't forget I just didn't realise –"

"You forgot." Fred bit, plain and clear, and the awkwardness began to build between them. She sighed.

""I can't believe I forgot, Fred, I'm so sorry," exclaimed a very embarrassed Hermione, as she hung her head in her hands, cheeks flushed pink. She usually prided herself on her organisational skills, but what with her move to the flat she'd lost her magical planner which sent her a voice note telling her of any upcoming birthdays. Being a literature fan, and her love for words, meant that Hermione Jean Granger never had much of a capability for remembering dates – except when it came to History of Magic, of course. She was quite literally a goldfish when it came to remembering social occasions; which was why she had bought the organiser in Diagon Alley in the first place.

Fred smirked at the brunette's evident discomfort, an idea already formulating in his mind. "It's alright 'Mione. Whilst I won't deny that I'm hurt, I'll forgive you," he acted, laying it on thicker than porridge. Hermione didn't seem to cotton on.

"Oh Fred I feel terrible – if there's anything I can do –" She was cut off by Fred's expression, one of sheer genius.

"Well now you mention it…" The redhead trailed off.

"What is it? Anything at all," Hermione pushed him, the weight of her mortification pushing her on.

"There is _one_way you could make it up to me," Fred said with a wink, "But I'm afraid you'd have to think up another idea for George."

Still not having cottoned on, "Care to elaborate?" The bookworm asked, pushing an unruly curl behind her ear.

The wicked glint in Fred's eye should have been warning enough, but then Hermione suspected that deep down she didn't really mind, not after the kiss that they had shared the other night.

"Well it goes a bit like this," Fred grinned – seeming a lot more confident than he felt. In actual fact, his heart was beating around a thousand beats per minute, as he drew Hermione to him, pressing his lips flush against hers.

How long they spent kissing; Hermione wasn't quite sure for the impact of Fred's lips against her own had made her forget everything she'd ever known – everything except the feel of his lips against hers, and the knowledge that the last thing she wanted him to do right now was stop. He broke the kiss, looking down at her questioningly, his breathing rapid and his pupils dilated with illicit thoughts, as her own wide chocolate brown orbs staring into his. She bit her bottom lip, blinking once in answer to the question that he hadn't asked.  
Eyeing her thoughtfully, he swept his pyjama shirt over his head, revealing hard, well-defined muscles and a dusting of ginger hair running down the centre of his stomach. Her eyes widened as she drank in the sight of him.

"I know we haven't got to ten yet, Hermione," Fred began, his voice deep and heavy as she continued to ogle him. "But I don't think I can stand it much longer. You're perfect, and I've wanted to tell you that for so so long. I'm in love with you."

"I stopped counting from day one," Hermione laughed, "I just went along with the list because I thought it was amusing…"

"You little minx," Fred grinned, "But if we do this, under no circumstance can you give the same present to George, OK?"

"What happened to "what's mine is yours"?" She joked, and the redhead shot daggers at her.

"I'm not sharing you Hermione. Not with George – not with anyone. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," she smirked, "Now shut up and kiss me." The bossy tone with which Fred was all too familiar had an interesting effect on the front of his trousers, as they tented. The wicked glint in his eyes, as he smoothed it down suggested that he was all too aware of how that merely accentuated his growing erection. Hermione's pupils were huge.

"I mean it, Frederick Weasley," Hermione smirked, "I want you, in my bed, now."

"Yes ma'am," grinned Fred as he swept her over his shoulder, apparating with a crack into her room, not wanting to waste any time, as they sank into the folds of her bed sheets, want overcoming the both of them.

* * *

A/N: I can assure you that there's plenty more where that came from - but you can't really deny that the tension was too much to ignore for much longer. Happy birthday to Fred & George - what did you think? - Beth :) xx


	8. First Year Free Membership

**A/N: **Bonjour mes amis!Here's another chapter… a whole week later I know, but I've been busy so sue me. I hope you're still enjoying this Fic – I quite like this chapter so reviews would be appreciated. Also, I have been advised to change the Rating to M – do you think it needs it? Let me know what you think, please? – Beth :) xx

* * *

**Free Membership  
**

Hermione sighed happily against Fred's bare chest, as he absent mindedly traced patterns on her lower back where they lay, naked and completely satisfied twined between her bed sheets.

"Didn't really expect to be doing that when I woke up this morning," she grinned up at the redhead, who had a satisfied smirk splayed across his features.

"Me neither," he admitted, "But I'm bloody glad we did. Will you come to our birthday meal at the Burrow, today?"

"I wouldn't pass up your Mum's cooking for the world," grinned Hermione, "Of course."

"Good," Fred murmured softly, "Although you're going to have to figure out something else to give George, mind." He kissed her forehead, and she relaxed under his embrace.

"I really don't want to get out of this bed, though," she sighed. Fred grinned, and rolled over so that he was leaning over her.

"I don't either. But we've got another three hours before Mum's expecting us," he grinned wickedly. "What do you say?"

* * *

"Hermione dear!" Exclaimed Molly, fussing over the brunette as she took her coats and her bags off her. "You've got a lovely colour – the spring air must be doing you good!" The older woman was most likely referring to the red flush that adorned her cheeks; but Hermione suspected that had had more to do with Fred whispering naughty words in her ear prior to their entrance.

George and Angelina were already seated in the lounge, and Ginny was resting her head in her husband's lap as they entered. A round of Happy Birthday ensued (a rather tuneless rendition at that) and Hermione nestled comfortably into the couch – one she had spent many hours of her youth reading in. Fred sat next to her, causing George to raise an eyebrow from across the room – a fact that didn't go unnoticed by the Gryffindor bookworm.

"Who're we waiting for, Mum?" Ginny asked as Harry played with her hair. The motherly woman smirked at the loved up couples around the room – they'd be popping out grandchildren before they knew it.

"Just Charlie and Percy," she smiled, "Bill can't make it – something at work – your Dad's in the garden with Ron picking me some vegetables." Ginny nodded, relaxing back into Harry's embrace.

* * *

"So," George started conversationally. "What's everyone got Freddie and I?"

Angelina grinned devilishly, "Well I gave you your present this morning," she purred, and George chuckled deeply.

"That you did," he grinned, and everyone in the room threw each other knowing smiles.

Presents were handed out, and everyone looked questioningly at Hermione. "Where's Fred's present, 'Mione?" Ron asked, who had come in from outside. She blushed, but didn't say anything.

"Hermione gave me my present this morning as well," he simply stated, throwing a pointed look in his twin's direction.

"No!" Ginny exclaimed, "Hermione, please tell me you didn't?" The younger girl's tone was cross between surprise, admiration and repulsion. Fred was, after all, Ginny's flesh and blood… and the last thing she liked to do was imagine things like _that_. Yuck.

Hermione lowered her head, blushing a Gryffindor crimson. Fred chuckled, putting his arm around Hermione's shoulder. "It's perfectly fine for boyfriends to receive a little bit of appreciation on their birthday, Ginny, so shut up, why don't you? Seems Harry gets some whether it's his birthday or not –"

Ginny cut her brother off with a strategically aimed cushion which hit him square in the face.

"Hermione's your girlfriend, huh?" Ron asked, bemused. He had to admit – he'd thought Charlie had a thing for Hermione, and vice versa… then again he should have probably put two and two together when Hermione had moved in with the twins. "Congratulations, mate." It was strained, but the intention was there, and Fred appreciated that, smiling in response.

However, Molly Weasley had chosen just that moment to re-enter the room, dropping the bone china teapot she had been carrying at the words, "Hermione's your girlfriend, huh?"

All heads swung in her direction. Ignoring the tea that was splashed all over the room, Molly let out an excited s queal like a kid on Christmas morning, and clapped her hands together. She grabbed Fred roughly, kissing him slap in the centre of his forehead, and crushed Hermione in a bone crushing hug. "Welcome to the family!" She grinned, "I always knew you'd be a Weasley, my dear."

Hermione grinned weakly – the Weasley family always had been rather intense, and what with all the attention directed towards her, Hermione finally knew how Harry had felt for the majority of his school career.

"Careful Mum," Chipped in George, amicably, "They just started dating. I don't think you should talk about marriage for another week, say?" There were laughs all round, and the assembled made their way to the dinner table to eat.

* * *

"Can you pass us the sprouts, please, 'Mione?" Charlie asked, shooting Hermione secret signals with her eyes. But the brunette ignored the dragon tamer, most likely because she was steadily trying to concentrate on finishing her roast potato without showing any signs that Fred's hand was gradually creeping up her thigh.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, bemused, and she blushed, looking around for whoever wanted her.

"Are you alright, 'Mione?" Asked an amused Charlie; who by now had had the sprouts passed within his reach, thanks to Ginny. "You seem kind of distant, that's all."

"She's probably just in shock," Ron chipped in, "Mum all but did the let's plan your wedding speech when she heard about Hermione and Fred."

Charlie choked on the sprout he'd been eating, sending it ricocheting across the table, so that it hit the Weasley family clock – hitting Percy right in the spoon. Ron guffawed, earning him a distasteful look from Percy, who looked very much like he wanted to get up and wipe the offending vegetable from the clock.

"Hermione and _Fred_?" Charlie asked, genuinely confused.

Hermione lowered her eyes, suddenly very much interested in her runner beans.

Fred beamed. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

"I must admit," Percy spoke up, "That one wouldn't have put you together in a million years. But you do make a sensible couple – hopefully Hermione will quell your trouble maker instincts."

Hermione grinned, "I think there's more chance of Professor Snape being gay than that happening," she smirked, as Ron choked on another roast potato.

"Hermione and _Fred_?" Repeated Charlie, bewildered. Hermione giggled – she'd never had so much attention in her life. "How did that happen?"

"Well," Fred grinned, "It's kind of a funny story – including polar bears and birthday cake. But if it's the same to you, I rather keep it between Hermione and myself."

"Wise move, young man," Molly grinned, "When it's anything to do with you boys, it's rarely appropriate conversation for the dinner table. Speaking of which, could you please remove your hand off your girlfriend's leg?" She smiled sweetly, and Ginny spat water across the table as she collapsed in peals of laughter, as both Fred and Hermione flushed crimson.

* * *

"Eugh I feel so bloated," Hermione groaned as she massaged her stomach. "I always eat too much whenever your Mum cooks," she sighed. "How all the Weasley's are skinny as twigs, it beats me."

"Years of practice, my love," Grinned Fred as he unlocked the front door. George and Angelina were watching the new couple with a knowing look in their eye.

"I would go running," Hermione admitted, "But I've mislaid all my running stuff."

"Well I've got an idea for a really good work out," Fred announced, deadly serious.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"How about you have sex with me?" Fred grinned. "Reason number five, sex, burns calories."

Hermione rolled her eyes for what had to be the hundredth time since moving into the twin's flat.

"Think of me as your own personal gym," he grinned, "First year free membership, then you'll have to pay. In Brownies," he chuckled.

"Nice try," Hermione smirked, "But you're going to have to try a bit harder than that from now on, I'm afraid."

"You know," smiled Angelina, "I think you two are going to make an even better couple than George and myself," she smiled kindly at Hermione. Hermione blushed, and Fred grinned. George, however, looked disgruntled.

"Speak for yourself, love!"

Angelina ignored her boyfriend's protests, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss him.


	9. Test Drive

**A/N:** I realise that I've not updated any FanFics in far too long and for that one can only apologise most profusely and resolve to update far more frequently from now on. I'm currently doing GCSEs at school and that's taking up a lot of my time – but I can't help but return to this Fic as it's by far one of my favourites. Fred and Hermione are such a joy to write and I need to finish this because I owe it to you guys who have been such a fantastic source of support. So thank you. – Beth xx

* * *

**Test Drive**

Hermione opened every single one of the bathroom cabinets, searching frantically for an unopened tube of toothpaste. She'd scoured the flat from top to bottom and came up with nothing – the Weasley twins were completely out of the minty product.

Slinging on a coat and tugging her hair into a haphazard pony tail, she grabbed her purse and made to head out – but not before she was apprehended by a certain redhead, his bed hair sticking up at the awkwardness of angles. He had the imprint of a pillow on his face, and Hermione did her very best not to laugh at him.

"Morning beautiful," Fred grinned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "Where are you rushing off to?"

"I need a couple of things from the shop," Hermione smiled, trying to duck past him, as he wound an arm around her petite waist. She was trapped. Fred smiled down at her, goofily, and Hermione smirked.

"Don't I get a kiss good morning?" Fred whined, puckering his lips dramatically as he swooped down, and Hermione shoved her arms roughly against his chest.

"Not until I get some toothpaste, I'm afraid. We're all out of it."

"What?" Fred was disgruntled, "Hermione I don't care if you've brushed your teeth or not, I still want to kiss you."

"Trust me," she said, rolling her eyes, "That's the last thing you want to be doing. My breath stinks. I'll make it up to you when I come back."

"Promise?" Fred turned on the puppy dog eyes – a very unfair tactic, Hermione's head told her – but she conceded nonetheless, rolling her eyes as she did so.

"I promise," she pecked Fred on the cheek and ducked out of his grip, leaving a bemused redhead in her wake who would most certainly wait for her return with certain impatience.

* * *

Hermione was barely through the door when she was greeted by a now half-dressed Fred – he had managed to put a shirt on, but not do it up. Her eyes rested on the plains of his chest for a few moments before she realised he was holding out her tooth brush; already slightly damp, and waiting for toothpaste.

"You couldn't even wait for me to get through the door?" Her eyebrows quirked upwards in amusement, but her inner goddess did a somersault, knowing that her gorgeous _boyfriend – _she was still adjusting to the title – wanted to kiss her this badly.

"Brush your teeth now," Fred pouted, and Hermione dropped the shopping bags at once, rootling through them until she came across the one containing the toothpaste.

"It's a new one," she smiled, "They didn't have my usual one. You'll have to tell me what you think," she smirked, squeezing out a small pea sized lump onto the brush and sticking it in her mouth.

"One, two, three, four," Fred counted frantically, skipping over the numbers… "one hundred and eighteen, one hundred and nineteen, one hundred and twenty!"

Hermione barely made it to the sink and spat out the frothy substance before Fred's lips swooped down and caressed her own. She considered struggling against him – pushing him off until she'd regained her breath at the very least, but began losing all sense of coherent thought as Fred's lips gently caressed her own.

His hand wound itself in the curls at the nape of her neck that had fallen loose from her pony tail, and stroked her skin gently whilst Hermione nipped playfully on his bottom lip, causing his mouth to part in shock. Ever the opportunist, Hermione took advantage of her boyfriend's surprise to coax her tongue slightly into his mouth, twining her tongue with his as she kissed him passionately.

Fred drew her closer towards him, her petite figure drawn flush against his semi-naked chest. Hermione let her hands wander idly up his sculpted torso, leaving a trail of Goosebumps the result of her touch in her wake. Fred moaned into her mouth and she couldn't help but smirk at how sensitive he was to her caress. Due to a lack of oxygen, rather than a desire to break the embrace, Hermione pulled away and looked up at Fred, who had a very endearing grin on his face, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide and wanting.

"I'm not one hundred per cent certain," Fred grinned sheepishly, "Whether I like this new toothpaste better or not. I think we need to collect further data just to be on the safe side, don't you think?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "If you say so." She reached up, latching her lips to his and applying gentle pressure she kissed him – differently this time. Her pace was gentle and undemanding yet managed to convey unspoken sentiment – sentiment that Fred returned with the tender way he cradled Hermione, hands resting on her hips as he held her to him, happy.

When they finally broke apart, Fred looked down at Hermione, his trademark grin spread across his features.

"You know Hermione," he chuckled, "I think test driving any type of hygiene product, be it toothpaste or shower gel is a perfectly good reason for you to sleep with me."

"Do you now?" Hermione laughed airily, her voice drifting through the flat. "In that case I bought a new shampoo as well, I don't suppose you'd care to join me in the shower, would you?"

Fred's mouth fell open a little as he regarded the Gryffindor bookworm with a look of complete adoration and disbelief.

"You serious?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?" The brunette had a catlike smirk on her face that would rival Draco Malfoy if she was that way inclined, and she unbuttoned her shirt deliberately after discarding her coat, eyes locked onto Fred's as she slowly but surely began to remove her clothes.

Fred stood rooted to the spot.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, a wave of self-consciousness over coming her, as she stood in the shared kitchen, exposed to the rest of the world.

Fred shook his head, opening his mouth only for no sound to come out.

It took him several attempts.

"Merlin, Hermione," he breathed heavily, "You're beautiful."

A small smile and a flush crossed the witch's features and she held out her hand, which Fred took gingerly.

"Shower?" She asked, grinning.

Fred grinned wickedly, "You betcha."

And that was that.


	10. The Finale

**Author's Note: **It's been what, a month or so since I last updated this Fic? I can say without a doubt this is my favourite Fic I've written, I find the playful banter between Fred and Hermione so easy to write and now, re-joining the world of FanFiction (I hope to update during the approaching holidays so as to break up my revision for exams) I thought to break myself back in gently I'd write the conclusion to this story. 10 good reasons means 10 chapters. The possibility of a sequel doesn't escape my mind, but for now I'd like to say to everyone who's stuck with me, throughout, THANK YOU – and to any other readers, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. – Beth

* * *

**The Finale  
**  
Hermione sighed, her arms clutching a pillow that smelt of musk and the familiar redhead smell that she'd grown accustomed to. She'd been spending so much time in Fred's bed of late that she'd forgotten what colour her own sheets were. Weeks of unrelenting teasing from George and Angelina she had endured – apparently they'd been so preoccupied they had forgotten to cast a silencing charm on the room, and George had apparently had nightmares for week.

She was content with her life; she had a homely place to live, a steady job and a boyfriend that made her heart flutter every time he was near. The bookworm never thought she'd say this, but Fred Weasley was possibly the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. Nothing could unhinge the dynamic that she'd found – Hermione was settled and nothing was going to change that.

Or so she thought.

Hermione felt her stomach swirl, and she felt the bile rising in her throat and could hardly move quick enough. Stumbling to the toilet, the contents of her stomach only just made it into the basin. Puking noises could be heard for the next couple of minutes, and Hermione lay slumped on the floor, her head resting against the cold ceramic tiles. She felt disgusting.

Fred stumbled into consciousness, groping the sheets beside him frustrated by the loss of his personal hot water bottle.

"Whatsgoinon?" He mumbled sleepily, drawing himself onto his elbows and surveying the surroundings. The en suite door ajar, Fred could see the form of his girlfriend bent over the toilet. He wrinkled his nose – considering all the nasty substances he worked with he never had been that good with Vomit. George usually handled those kinds of products in the joke shop. Still, he loved Hermione and if ensuring she was okay meant cleaning up a little bit of sick, well that was a prize that Fred Gideon Weasley was prepared to pay. "'Mione?" He called, his voice laced with concern. No answer, apart from a croaky groan. He drew on his bathrobe, and padded to the bathroom. The faucet turned on and then off, and Hermione felt her forehead being wiped with a cold flannel. Fred looked down at her, his eyes brimming with concern.

"Are you okay m'love?" He asked. "Ate something dodgy?"

Hermione burst into tears, one minute her face was calm if slightly green, the next it was streaked with drops of salty water.

"Hermione?" Fred pulled her to her feet, clutching her close to him. He pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear, and tipped her head so that she was looking right at him. "Hermione, love, what on earth is the matter?"

She sniffed, and a hand trailed subconsciously towards her stomach. "Fred," she hiccupped. "I think I'm pregnant."

Fred swayed on the spot, half sure that he was about to faint. Had he misheard her? Or had Hermione just said the words "I'm" and "pregnant" in the same sentence. She was looking at him with wide expectant eyes, waiting for him to say something.

So naturally, Fred Weasley did the first thing that came to mind.

He ran.

* * *

Hermione sunk to the floor, despair brimming through her. This hadn't been part of the equation – they had been careful, hadn't they? She'd remembered to take her contraception potion daily, and Fred often cast a contraceptive charm just to be on the safe side… her eyes widened as the realisation of one minute detail a rather uncomfortable Professor Flitwick had disclosed in one of the Sexual Health lessons that had been compulsory for 6th year students.

The contraceptive charm and contraceptive potion were not to be used together as they had the effect of cancelling one another out.

The one time Fred Weasley decides to be sensible, Hermione rolled her eyes, and it all backfires.

Tears resumed their course down her cheeks, because now Fred had legged it, and Hermione was sat here, all alone… except for the baby inside of her.

What felt like hours passed, before a very out of breath Fred Weasley burst back into the room. Hermione looked at him with daggers in her eyes – he had no right to run off like that and leave her in such a sorry state.

"FRED GIDEON WEASLEY!" Hermione snarled, hands on hip, attack mode activated. "You have some explaining to do!"

At least he had the decency to look sheepish, Hermione mused, as the redhead suddenly sank to one knee.

Her mouth was probably hung open in what could only be described as a fly trap, but if this was what she thought it was she had every right to be surprised. Two minutes previously she thought that she would have to figure out how to deal with this whole mess on her own. Clearly not, she chuckled, if Fred's stance was anything to go by.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Fred cleared his throat, the nerves catching and making it go gruff. Hermione's hand covered her mouth as he pulled a velvet box from his back pocket. "I am completely and utterly in love with you and it would mean the world to me if you would be my wife… what do you think?"

"Oh Fred," Hermione smiled, tears of joy mixing with the salt water already staining her cheeks. "YES!"

She jumped on him, ravishing his mouth with the most thorough and heated kiss she'd ever given anyone, and she found that they were smiling against each other's mouths, and that their embrace had turned slow and luxurious. Fred put her down, her legs finding the floor from where they'd been wrapped around his waist. He slipped a dainty diamond ring onto her finger – he knew that Hermione was a practical sort of girl so in his detour to the jewellers he'd picked something simple but elegant, just like the Gryffindor bookworm – and kissed her gently on the knuckles, before a wicked glint lit up his eyes.

"Hermione?" He beamed at her.

"Yes Fred?" She stared at him, eyes wide as she tried to consider what wicked idea he was possibly thinking.

"Does engagement sex get to go on the list?"

"Fred!" Hermione smacked his arm. Then she smiled. "I suppose it does."

"Come here Mrs Hermione Weasley…" he chuckled, reaching his arms for her waist and kissing her neck tenderly.

"Oh I could get used to that," Hermione smirked.

"Mhmm," Fred murmured, "Me too."

And that was that.

* * *

**A/N:** So, Whaddya think? This wasn't my initial ending, I was just going to close with a soppy chapter but this happened, and I think it's a good way of rounding of this story. If you don't, or if you've enjoyed this Fic, then I'd love to hear from you. Please review! Lots of love - Beth


End file.
